


How Anatoly Jr Got Over It

by Gangstertogangster



Category: Luke Cage (TV), The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Gen, Not Canon Compliant, Protective Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:14:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22980817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gangstertogangster/pseuds/Gangstertogangster
Summary: My OC kids, ShadyMariah's adopted daughter Honor and Anatoly Ranskahov's son with my OC Shauna, Toly, are the center of this.Toly has a crush on Honor, and he quickly learns not to stalk the daughter of Mariah Dillard and Shades.
Relationships: Shades Alvarez/Mariah Dillard
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	How Anatoly Jr Got Over It

  
  


Anatoly Jr, also known as “Toly”, had it bad. The fifteen year old track suit aficionado was aching to ask his crush out. He would catch glances at the girl his age, hoping she both acknowledged his longing and ignored his desperation. She was in a few of his classes (despite the size of the large Manhattan public school), but she never really seemed to show much interest in him, aside from the occasional, “Hey, what was the homework?” 

As of late she sported bright green braids that cascaded down her right side, which he found striking but he couldn’t quite figure out what compelled her to make that hair choice. Especially since her favorite color was pink. He wished her hair was back to its natural black color, though she still remained beautiful as ever. She was Afro-Latina with beautiful brown skin and brown eyes. She was always dressed in the latest designer gear, and she had a fondness for Purell. 

Toly wasn’t bad looking, he didn’t think. He was always dressed in some article of Adidas clothing and had his jeans sagging, he believed himself to be fly for a white guy. He said as much to his brothers, who both collectively groaned. 

Today was the day, he believed. The day he would make his gazes and his following her around validated. He told himself he wasn’t creepy, he assured his brother Andrey and half brother Alexei as much. 

* * *

Harlem wasn’t far from Hell’s Kitchen, especially by car. So after the final bell, he drove himself and Andrey home, dropped his stuff off, killed some time at Starbucks, then headed over to the Alvarez brownstone in his own personal Veles Taxi-cab. Finding a parking spot took up some time as well. 

He blasted some G-Eazy and Migos to get himself pumped up. He got the volume up, felt like “Bad and Boujee” was written about him. 

Even after parking, he still played the music for just himself, with the windows still down. He was still trying to get pumped up even after the extra rush from his Red Bull and Frappuccino. 

He pulled up his pants a little more, because they really were sagging and people walking past were staring at him. He wasn’t the only white wannabe rapper in Harlem, and he truly believed that he had nothing to do with gentrification, so he tried to brush it off. It was a short walk but he felt his palms get sweaty. He memorized the address and the outside of the home, so finding the brownstone was no trouble. 

He walked up the steep steps. The cool spring air felt more like an extra chill than the comforting breeze it should have. He was mentally preparing himself to knock on the large door when it swung open seemingly on its own. 

An older black woman stood in front of him. He supposed she was in her sixties. She was a little shorter than him but he still felt like she was looking down on him. She started at him with deep brown eyes that reminded him of Honor’s, though he knew she was adopted from what he heard. 

She was dressed in a pressed, elegant white blouse and some high waisted pressed grey slacks. She had silver hoop earrings, a few rings. Her hair framed her face just right. He wondered if this was Honor’s mother or her grandma. 

“Can I help you with anything, young man?” The woman calmly asked, after she was done reading his face. 

“Uh...Uh...Is Honor in? I wanted to talk to her about the homework.” 

“I thought y’all had phones for that,” she smiled. 

“I lost her number, m’am…” Toly hastily answered. 

The woman laughed politely. She looked him over again and gestured inside, saying, “Would you like to come inside to wait for her?” 

Toly’s heart pounded like hell. He felt the woman in front of him radiating impatient energy. He said, weakly, “sure, I mean, yes, of course, I’d like that.” 

The woman waved him inside, and he cautiously walked past her. She was kindly and he appreciated her doing this for him, but he was nervous all the same. 

She said, “Take your shoes off please.” 

He did as he was told, slipping out of his sneakers on the mat inside. 

“Follow me,” She instructed, sounding much like one of his teachers. He did as he was told. If she’d get him to Honor, he’d oblige this old lady. 

She led him to the dining room. At the table sat a middle aged man who looked white or Latino. He wore some expensive looking sunglasses, just as Honor herself did. He could still feel the man’s stare burning a hole through him. While the woman smiled, the man frowned. His eyes were likely glaring. 

Toly fidgeted a little in his sock feet. He asked, “Is it ok if I sit down?” 

The woman’s smile instantly vanished. It became a grimace. Her eyes turned cold. “That won’t be necessary. You won’t be staying long,” she said, stern. 

Toly felt like he forgot how to breathe. 

The man swiftly removed his sunglasses. He was definitely glaring. He rose to his feet as the woman casually sat down. She reached for his hand, held it. 

“You wanna tell my wife and I what the hell you’re doing stalking our daughter?” 

Toly couldn’t help but let a panicked little laugh escape him because he really didn’t see that woman being the mom of a high school kid. 

The man looked at him as if he was going to snap Toly’s neck right then and there. The woman squeezed his hand, cooed, “Relax, Hernan. Slim Shady ain’t shit.” 

He grew extremely hot. He tried to back up and quickly head for the door but he could barely back up before the woman, not moving, snapped, “Don’t you dare move, little bitch.” 

Toly felt queasy now. 

“You better not retch on my floors,” the woman said, irritated. 

Toly, at his most desperate now, blurted out, “You know who my pops is?” 

The man and the woman exchanged a weary glance at each other, and then resumed glaring at him. The man reached behind him, pulled out a revolver from the back of his pants. Held it in front of him, the business end pointed down. 

The man stepped just a little bit closer, and Toly shook terribly where he stood. 

The man laughed coldly. “We don’t give a shit who your pops is. We know you’re a Ranskahov and we know they ain’t been shit.” 

The woman got up, stepped all the way up to Toly. His stomach hurt so bad and his throat was dry. She wrapped her right hand around his neck gently, her manicured fingers firm. He knew that if he made a wrong move she’d be the one snapping his neck.

She spoke in a low, grave voice. “If you follow my daughter ever again, if you show your ass up around this block, if I or my husband hear so much as a whisper about you hanging around Honor, I will cut your pubescent body up into little pieces and stuff them into one of those Russian Dolls. Is that crystal clear?” 

Toly began to cry, nodding vigorously. The woman, disgusted, removed her hand from his neck. 

“Now get your ass out of my house,” she commanded. 

Toly did as he was told, running as fast as he could and nearly tripping since he was on the hardwood in those socks. He picked up his shoes, crammed them on without bending over, quickly opened the door, and bolted for his cab, his pants barely staying on. 

Hernan put his gun back in the back of his pants, went over to his wife. Mariah smiled as he kissed her cheek ever so gently. 

Honor walked in from the kitchen, groaning, “Get a room.” 

Mariah scoffed, said, “You’re welcome.” 

Honor smiled, went over to her parents and hugged them both. “Thanks for scaring off that creepy white boy,” she beamed. 

“We got your back, baby, always,” Hernan told her. 

“Does he even know you’re a lesbian?” Mariah asked. 

Honor laughed, shrugged. “I doubt it. He’s dense as hell. His whole family are a bunch of dumbasses.” 

Mariah, Hernan, and Honor laughed together at that. 

“Now go set the table for dinner,” Mariah said to her daughter. Honor groaned again as she went to do just that. 

“Hey, attitude!” Hernan chided, while Honor got to the plates. 

  
  
  



End file.
